


maybe one day a plane will bring me home

by astano



Category: Glee
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-29
Updated: 2013-11-29
Packaged: 2018-01-02 23:29:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1062943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/astano/pseuds/astano
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first five times Santana visits New York.</p>
            </blockquote>





	maybe one day a plane will bring me home

**Author's Note:**

> 1) Based on the spoilers for the christmas episode, I got to thinking, what if Santana just decided she wanted to go to New York on more than one occasion.
> 
> 2) As seems to be the general operating procedure of the writers on the show itself, I have concerned myself with canon only where it fit in with the story I wanted to tell.

_i._

After debating in her head for far too long, in the end, it’s Kurt Santana texts to get the address. She's had a fucking awful week at college, from classes that just don't hold any interest at all to dealing with the other girls on the squad, who all think they’re better than her, and have to prove it on a daily basis, and she just needs to get away. New York is the first place that comes to mind.

She packs a bag, hops on a flight, and when Rachel and Kurt are both back from whatever the hell they have going on during the day, Santana’s firmly camped out on their couch, shoes kicked off and feet up, watching something completely mindless on TV.

“I found your spare key,” is all she greets them with, and she figures Kurt warned Rachel, because there’s no real surprise in her expression, but she seems happy enough that Santana’s there, pulling her into a hug, which Santana allows for a few seconds before deciding that’s enough for one day and stepping away.

They don’t ask her why she’s there, but she gets drunk later and tells them anyway. It feels good to finally talk about how much she hates Louisville, hates her classes, the people, everything. How she can’t talk to Brittany about this because she feels like she’d be letting her down, and how they’ve not really been talking much anyway, ever since she went off to college.

She falls asleep on the couch after the second bottle of wine, and makes the trip back to Louisville the following day hungover, but somehow feeling a little better than she did the day before.

 

_ii._

It’s not cheap, flying out to New York so often, but Santana’s got her mom’s money, and this voice whispering in the back of her head that the last time she can remember enjoying herself, the last time she was even the tiniest bit happy, was sitting at Rachel and Kurt’s table, head pounding from the wine the night before, but laughing at Rachel trying to cook breakfast for the three of them.

 _What are you doing this weekend?_ she texts Rachel in a fit of… weakness? Loneliness?

It’s only when Rachel texts back that she’s got a thing Friday night, but is free otherwise that Santana remembers about the winter showcase—about how Rachel’s performing in front of the entire school or something. She can’t remember exactly, but wonders if she’ll be able to get tickets to fly out in time to be there. It’s not like she’s missed hearing Rachel sing or anything ridiculous like that, she’s just trying to be a good, supportive friend.

She’s almost gotten through the process of booking and paying for the ticket when she remembers there’s probably a game that night that she’s supposed to be cheering at, and what can only be disappointment boils up inside her as she cancels out of the page and books a ticket for Saturday morning instead.

She probably wouldn’t have been able to get into the thing anyway, seeing as how she’s not even a student a NYADA.

 

_iii._

In what seems like a complete turn of events, Rachel’s the one to invite her up for the holidays. She can tell they’re probably just feeling sorry for her, after everything with Brittany, but truthfully, she’s not doing too badly. The break up had been brewing for a pretty long time, when she actually thinks about things, and, while she’s sad, and she’s done her fair share of crying, she’s not completely destroyed or anything.

Still, spending the holiday in New York doesn’t seem like the worst thing in the world.

There’s lots of food and drinking and more parties than Santana would ever have expected from Rachel and Kurt, and the less said about the fucking elf costumes, the better, as far as she’s concerned. She can’t believe she let Rachel talk her into that one. It’s not even like she needs the money.

Before she knows it, it’s new year’s eve, and they're all getting ready to go out to some party Kurt’s been invited to. 

Within seconds of walking through the door, she loses track of the two of them, and ends up spending most of the evening talking to someone Kurt knows from Vogue. She tries to find them just before midnight, but it’s useless, and it’s getting on for three in the morning before she see them again.

She spots Rachel dragging an obviously drunk Kurt behind her from the direction of the bathroom and shouts Rachel’s name loud enough to be heard over the music. When Rachel squints for a long few seconds then waves in her direction, Santana figures she’s probably not much more sober than Kurt.

“Santana,” Rachel says, and it’s slurred, but sounds almost on the verge of excited. “We missed you!” Santana doesn’t have any time at all to react before she’s got an arm full of drunken Rachel Berry. “It’s too late now,” Rachel continues, hands gripping Santana’s shoulder hard, probably in an effort to keep standing. “But happy new year!”

The kiss catches her unawares, Rachel’s mouth landing on her cheek, wet and altogether too enthusiastic. Santana’s face immediately wrinkles up into a pantomime of disgust and she pushes backwards, sending Rachel stumbling into Kurt’s arms.

“That’s not very nice,” Rachel says, but she’s giggling, and Santana thanks God, because she knows she just completely overreacted to what was just a friendly kiss on the cheek.

Still, she can’t seem to help the stinging tone of her voice as she says,  “Yeah, well I think you’ve been taking far too many pointers from your oaf of an ex-boyfriend, because wet and sloppy is _not_ nice.”

“That’s not—you can’t just—I can do better.” Rachel turns to Kurt, poking him in the chest hard enough to make him wince. “Tell Santana I’m a good kisser. Tell her.”

Kurt kind of just looks on helplessly while Rachel pouts, then finally gives a shrug, which, Santana doesn’t even want to know. Not now, not ever. She’s still trying to work out how this conversation moved from cheek kissing to kissing kissing without anyone batting an eyelid.

“You’re both drunk,” she says instead. “It’s time to go home.”

Somewhere, someone is laughing at the fact that _she’s_ the responsible adult in this situation, but nevertheless, she bundles them all into a cab and gets them back to the loft in one piece.

It’s after four in the morning by the time they’re home, and Rachel and Kurt pass out on their beds almost as soon as they make it through the door. Santana’s not fighting with the pull-out bed at this time of night, so she slips under the covers beside Rachel. It’s not the first time she’s slept there, so she hopes Rachel won’t have a panic attack when she wakes up to find another body beside her.

She tries not to think about the feel of Rachel’s lips on her cheek, or why she overreacted so badly, but still, it takes her a long time to get to sleep.

 

_iv._

It’s when she figures out she misses Rachel more that she ever missed Brittany that Santana realises she’s got big problems.

She likes to think she’s grown up a lot in the last few years, become the sort of person who’s not scared of taking chances when they’re necessary. She still doesn’t have much of a plan when she books the next flight out to JFK.

Rachel looks surprised, but not unhappy, to see her, pulling her into a hug before Santana has chance to say a word.

“Tickets to New York are expensive,” is the first thing that comes out of her mouth when Rachel lets her go.

Rachel looks confused for a second, then says, “You know you don’t have to keep coming out here to see us. Kurt and I would be happy to—”

“That’s not what I meant.” Santana reaches up to run fingers through her hair, and it’s only then that she realises her hand’s shaking. “I like coming to visit you. I—I _want_ to come.” Rachel still looks kind of confused, and Santana shakes her head, looks kind of helplessly at Rachel when the right words don’t seem to be coming out. She’s never had this much trouble expressing herself in her life. “What I mean is… there’s a reason I—”

She just ends up kind of launching herself at Rachel, pulling her into a kiss that’s too hard and full of teeth and not at all how Santana wanted their first kiss to be.

Rachel doesn’t push her away, though, she seems content to let the kiss happen until Santana pulls back, wide-eyed and a little breathless. She’s pretty sure she looks like a deer caught in headlights, but Rachel’s face isn’t giving anything away.

“Just—just think about it, okay?” She says before turning and all but running back down the stairs and to the safety of the street outside. So much for not being scared anymore.

 

_v._

Three nerve-wracking days later, Santana gets a text. 

_Kurt informs me that unfortunately he can’t tell me if you’re actually a better kisser than first impressions would dictate, but I’d like to find out for myself if you’re still willing?_

Santana laughs through the tears suddenly clouding her vision and picks up the bag she still hasn’t unpacked from her last impromptu visit to New York.

The next flight to JFK really can’t be soon enough.


End file.
